


Sex Tape

by MamaDonovan



Category: Guardians of the Galaxy (Movies), Marvel Cinematic Universe
Genre: Comedy, Drama, Gen, Loss of Parent(s), Music, Oedipal Issues
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-10-19
Updated: 2014-10-19
Packaged: 2018-02-21 18:26:03
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 880
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2478116
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/MamaDonovan/pseuds/MamaDonovan
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Peter Quill returns home briefly to pick up some old mementos. However, he discovers something he never wanted to know about. His mother had......a sex life!</p>
            </blockquote>





	Sex Tape

“You got five minutes. Get your shit.” Rocket scratched his ear as they parked the ship outside the small farmhouse. 

“What is so important that we had to come here?” Gamora folded her arms. 

“Just things.” Peter leaped out of the ship, eagerly sprinting until he reached the front door. He froze when he smelled the aged wood. This used to be a home, now it was a haunted shack. He didn’t have the keys anymore, but it wasn’t even locked anyway.   
He tiptoed through the dust and the cobwebs and discovered that almost nothing was moved since he’d last been here. He at least expected some of his aunts and uncles to box things up. They always talked about selling the damn place, since he was supposed to move in with Grandma and Grandpa when his mother…

He shook his head when he realized he was getting off track. The good thing was that since they’d left all this untouched, that means that her room should still be just how it was. He ran up the stairs, following the last traces of the familiar scent of home. With a deep breath and shut eyes, he slowly opened the closet door, peeking like he was opening a Christmas present.

Jackpot. 

Stacks and stacks of audio cassettes. Some mix tapes and some official albums. All of them her favorites. He didn’t want to keep the crew waiting any longer, so he threw them all in his trusted thief bag and skipped on back to the ship.   
“What’d you get? Pictures? Some old toys? Some sentimental crap, right?” Rocket wanted to dig through Peter’s loot himself. 

“Nope, better. More tunes for the trip.” Peter smiled jovially as he starting reading the labels on the cassettes. ABBA; sure, he could go for a little Dancing Queen. AC/DC; um, YES. His favorite ones were her personal mix tapes. She made a lot for herself before she made the Awesome Mix Tapes for him. 

Then, his body turned to heavy stone as he held one particular tape, simply labeled “Sex Nights” in blue pen. 

Oh God, why. Did he dare? These were his strongest connection to her. He listened to them constantly because each song was a piece of her soul that he could carry with him always. Would it desecrate her memory to carry this piece, too? Peter was the kind of guy who kept his mother on this pedestal. Meredith Quill was the sweetest, kindest, smartest, and most beautiful woman who ever lived. She was the highest level of purity, untouched by man, and no one could tell him otherwise, not even those who reminded him that she had to have had sex at least once to have conceived him. He could have spent his whole life just going on that, but in this one moment, that fragile illusion was permanently shattered, because not only did this tape prove that she had a sex life both before and after he was born, but she had a style, she had certain tastes.

Listening to the tape on his Walkman was a very emotional experience. It took a lot of mental strength to feel his mother without fantasizing about her doing some guy. The first song was easy to get through; You Sexy Thing by Hot Chocolate, it was fun without being too dirty. 

“Let’s Get It On” was next, an obvious classic that made him think about so many other things to drown out the images of his mother slipping off her bra straps. 

Barry White just made the Oedipal crisis even worse. It was one thing when the beats were sexy, and the rhythm was at that special pace, but when the song starts off with slow and sensual moaning, that was just cheating. Now he was asking the questions he didn’t want answers to. Was this what she was listening to when she made him? Was this the foreplay or the actual thing? Did she make this one herself or did a boyfriend make this for her? 

Rod Stewart’s “Do Ya Think I’m Sexy?” was a lot more subtle in his opinion, but it didn’t help him retract his naughty thoughts. This was a dancing kind of song, so his imagination took him to a terrible place where his mother was circling her hips and trailing her fingers along her thighs. 

The final song did him in, the worst offender of them all. Donna Summer’s “Love to Love Ya Baby” had the same problem that the Barry White song did, except that moaning was not just at the beginning of the song, it was the song. Pure moaning. For seven minutes. Only interrupted by the funky hip-thrusting 70’s sound that was the base for all pornos. 

At this point, Peter was on the floor in tears. Most of the gang knew to leave him to his business when the headphones were on, but Groot was the first one to suggest they do something. 

“I am Groot.” 

“Yeah, we should do something. Star-Lord’s having a complete meltdown over here.”

“How can he melt down if we’re at a standard temperature?”

“Leave him be. He needs this time to be alone. In the meantime, put the Kevin Bacon tape in the ship’s drive.”


End file.
